Half Life: Gordon's Dead
by BetaMaster
Summary: After being captured by the G-Man, Gordon is sent through a hellish journey to his ultimate demise. During this trip, he goes to the brink of insanity, teeters back, and finally takes the plummet before dying. COMPLETED
1. The GMan Says

Half-Life: Gordon's Dead  
  
Written And Directed By Hydraulic Cheese  
  
Chapter One: G-Man Says... English Version  
  
Gordon looked around. Where was he? It was...not the lab. But then, it could never be the lab. Black Mesa was gone. He was back to being a freelance scientist. Although it resulted in a drastic pay cut, he was alive. He couldn't say the same for his town. Or the nearby towns. Actually, he couldn't say the same for the whole south-western part of the United States.  
Yes, he had failed his mission in protecting Black Mesa. Yes, he had failed in protecting his city. And yes, he had failed in protecting the whole country. But he had succeeded in protecting his life. And that had to be worth something.  
Back to the situation. Gordon had been walking down the street to the Philotic Web Research Center, and suddenly he wasn't. As far as he could tell, he wasn't anywhere. He had just ceased to exist. It didn't make any sense, but there was nothing around him. Nothing at all. There wasn't darkness. There wasn't light. It wasn't black, and it wasn't white. It was just...empty.  
Gordon couldn't feel the ground. That didn't mean he felt like he was floating. There was just nothing around him. No gravity, no gases, no ground, no anything. Gordon didn't even have to breathe. It was almost like everything had gone away. Like time had stopped, yet he was still there. But that couldn't be true. Otherwise he'd still be in the street, only everyone would have stopped.  
"Hey! Is anyone out there?" Gordon tried yelling. No answer. He didn't even here his own voice. No echo, no vibrations, it was just as if he hadn't moved his mouth but nothing happened. But obviously it had an effect, because a person appeared in front of him, and judging by the perspective, he was about twenty feet away. A light that seemed to come from nowhere, but everywhere at the same time illuminated the human.  
Gordon froze. He recognized that face. He recognized that posture, and those cold, menacing eyes. A single word came out of Gordon's mouth, unheard, but the figure understood it.  
"You."  
The figure made the smallest movement, and a stronger light beamed out, bathing Gordon with a bright, hot, white light. The figure was the G- Man, a mysterious person who had spoken to Gordon less than ten times, yet was a former partner in the inter-dimensional battle.  
"Yes, Mr. Freeman, it is I. I've handed in my Medal of Honor in return for a much more rewarding power. I am the half-ruler of parallel dimension, one not yet explored by the backwards scientist of America. I have gained ownership of the Zoc't'vic dimension, which is a dimension far superior and technologically advanced compared to Earth. That is where I gained the power to come here, Mr. Freeman, and bring you with me." The G- Man smirked, waiting for Gordon to ask the question that they both knew he would ask.  
"Where is here?"  
"Ah, yes. I knew that question would come into play. The question asked in every sci-fi novel, movie, or game. Now it is being asked here, in the real world. Well, Mr. Freeman, where we are is far beyond your comprehension of the form of where. We have traveled to a semi-dimension, a dimension without the properties of a dimension yet. It is the same as if you had been in your universe before the Big Bang. That is as close as I can explain to you what this is."  
"So this is a universe that hasn't yet expanded?"  
"No, Mr. Freeman," the G-Man allowed a small, half-patronizing, half- sinister chuckle before continuing. "This is a completely void universe. Every subatomic atom and piece of matter is reading your mind faster than you can think of things. You see, every particle in this universe needs a job. But, Mr. Freeman, they don't have a job, do they? So, as soon as they have chance for a job, they take it. Almost like you, isn't it, Mr. Freeman? Already, in the past five minutes that we've been talking, trillions of particles have combined to form billions of objects, but because you do not hold the images in your mind, they are simultaneously destroyed as soon as they are created."  
The G-Man looked to his left, where a planet the size of a baseball appeared.  
"You see what I mean, Mr. Freeman? I just created a whole civilization, complete with five species, space travel, and of course, a religion where they worship me."  
He waved a hand, and the planet imploded.  
"And now, as soon as they were about to launch their first ship to embark on a three-thousand year long quest for other intelligent life, they're dead. I killed them, Mr. Freeman, but it wasn't important, was it? I created them; so therefore, I have the right to kill them. For them, though, they had lived for millions of years. Time creates interesting warps in an undeveloped universe, doesn't it, Mr. Freeman? They had a whole history on their evolution, beginning from small arthropods that breathed through their own skin."  
Gordon glanced around. "Why did you bring me here? I thought that we had moved down different paths!"  
The G-Man glared at Gordon, seemingly angry at his short temper. "Mr. Freeman, we had moved down different paths! I have brought you here to pass on a little message for me. It's quite simple, really. I'll tell you what to say, and you, Mr. Freeman, will tell the other people about the apocalypse that is imminent for them. Will you cooperate, Mr. Freeman?"  
Gordon spat at the man. Or, tried to. The spit simple flew roughly three inches, and them shot straight back down Gordon's throat. "Bite me," Gordon said as he gagged on the self-attack.  
The G-Man smiled slowly, and chuckled once again. "Well, Mr. Freeman, it appears that I'll just have to pass the message on to people myself, won't I?" The man began to laugh.  
Gordon didn't understand what he meant, but it was creepy. Next thing he knew, he was staring as his body, but he was still in his body. The body he stared at melted away.  
"Mr. Freeman, I've created a new you, a you which I have the power to manipulate. I have combined my spirit with yours, so that we share the same body." Gordon said.  
"What the-! You can't do thi-"Gordon started to yell.  
"Yes I can, Mr. Freeman. I can, and I did. If you do not cooperate, I'll just take total control, won't I?"  
Gordon knew that the G-Man wasn't lying. He knew that if he didn't keep his mouth shut, then he'd be trapped in the darkest corner of his mind. Knowing that, Gordon shut up.  
"Yes, Mr. Freeman, that's the spirit. Now, let's get up of here, Mr. Freeman, and prepare the world for their doom."  
Without another word, Gordon was back on the sidewalk, exactly where he had been. Exactly where everyone else had been. Had time stopped, Gordon wondered.  
No, Mr. Freeman, time hadn't stopped. As I said before, an undeveloped universe created interesting warps in time. You really should listen, Mr. Freeman, G-Man said inside of his head. Staying silent, Gordon continued walking down the street.  
After all, what the G-Man says goes.  
  
All right, that's it for chapter one. What'd you think? Please review it! I'll take comments, criticism, ideas, anything. Thx for reading, now review! -Hydraulic Cheese 


	2. Apocalypse Now

After thinking about the complexity of how the conversations between Gordon and the G-Man would look, I've decided to put tags around the thoughts, just so that you can tell what's happening. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter Two: Apocalypse Now  
  
English Version  
  
Monday – Day One  
  
Walking down the sidewalk to the institution, Gordon almost felt normal. Almost. He had almost gotten used to the feeling of occupying the same body that the G-Man was, with him watching Gordon's every move. Almost. Not to mention, he had almost forgotten the G-Man could read his every thought. Almost.  
  
Mmm-hmm, Mr. Freeman, I suggest you get used to those feelings. I'll be in here until the day you die. Gordon could almost feel the G-Man's sneer. Almost.  
  
I'll find some way to get you out of here! Gordon thought, while he tried to concentrate on the sidewalk and not on G-Man's snide and depressing comments.  
  
Snide and depressing? Well, well, well, Mr. Freeman, you have a bigger vocabulary then I thought. Oh, you know what? I think I'll warn this professional-looking businessman walking by. He looks like he could use the truth. Don't you feel the same way, Mr. Freeman?   
  
Gordon didn't answer.  
  
You know, Mr. Freeman, it's impolite to ignore someone. Will you tell the man yourself about the coming apocalypse and the downfall of humanity?   
  
No, and neither will you! I won't let you do this! Gordon tried not to look at the man, but his eyes were drawn to him for some reason.  
  
All right, then. It seems, Mr. Freeman, that I'll have to tell him myself, won't I? Hmm, it seems like I'll need you body to do that. Go into your hiding place, Gordon. I can call you Gordon, can't I? Seeing as I'm in your body, I should be able to be more...personal. Don't you agree?   
  
Gordon was about to run as far from the man as he could, but suddenly he lost control. He could still see, yes, but he couldn't move his eyes. He couldn't shut his mouth from the coming conversation.  
  
"Nice day to die, isn't it, sir?" G-Man – In – Gordon said to the businessman.  
  
"Err, yes, I suppose so. By saying, "die", what are you inferring?" The man looked uncomfortable by this sudden conversation-starter.  
  
"The apocalypse. The death of every human on earth. You'll all be dying this week."  
  
"Is there any, um, way to protect ourselves?"  
  
"No, you'll just all be shot and killed. Or turned into slaves to colonize this world so it suits the Zoc't'vicians. You'll probably end up living an extra two to three weeks before you die of exhaustion. Or maybe torture. They could torture you to death, or dissect you. Who knows, but either way, you'll end up dying."  
  
"Ok, well, I need to get to work. Bye, now." Without another word, the man jogged away. About twenty feet away, the man's briefcase popped open, and three CDs in cases fell out. The man grabbed the first two he found, and ran off without the other one.  
  
That went well, don't you think, Gordon? He'll probably tell his friends about the crazed madman who talked about the death of every human.   
  
I hate you.   
  
Gordon, Mr. Freeman, Dr. Freeman, if you think about it, you're the one who appears to be doing this. You'll be arrested, and then I'll really have some fun.   
  
What are you talking about?   
  
Oh, nothing. I just love how I can read your mind, but you can't read mine. With that, the G-Man continued walking down the street to the institute. When he passed by the CD, he bent down and picked it up.  
  
I might have a use for this, Gordon. We'll have a look-see later on.   
  
Just shut up.   
  
How about you shut up, and I go down to the institute and "harass" some people about their death day? Chuckling, he continued walking.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, they were at the Philotic Research Institute, and the G-Man had walked up to the clerk.  
  
"Hello, and welcome to PRI. How may I help you?" The clerk, a blond in her mid-twenties asked, smiling the whole time.  
  
"Well, beautiful, you can start by giving me your number. We'll trade." G-Man – In – Gordon smirked.  
  
"Eugh, you're like 50 or something. Forget it. What do you want, creep?"  
  
"All right, fine, can I at least talk to you about the apocalypse coming that will doom you along with the rest of your pitiful society?" G- Man – In – Gordon stared into the clerk's eyes, seriously, but also cruelly.  
  
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Either you leave, or I'll be forced to call the cops." The clerk was looking slightly frightened by "Gordon's" face and voice.  
  
"Oh, you'll call the cops? On what cause? Speaking the TRUTH?!?" G- Man yelled the last word so loud that everyone in the room turned to stare at him.  
  
Please, just turn and walk away. Don't do this to me. Please, please, please. Gordon was so upset he was actually trying to beg with the G-Man, a cruel, heartless being that couldn't even be considered human.  
  
Oh, don't worry, Gordon, my old friend, it will get WAY worse than this. This is only the beginning of your new, personal Hell. You'll be wishing you were dead right up until the day you die. Oh, yes, you'll be begging for me to kill you. But I won't. And do you know why, Mr. Freeman, Gordon?   
  
Because you want me to hate myself, my life, and this world.   
  
Close. Because I want you to RELISH dying, along with the rest of humanity dying. I'll make sure that you go last. I'll make sure you watch each and every human die before the mighty Zoc't'vicians. That is why I won't kill you.   
  
"Go ahead, babe, call the police. I dare you. Do it. Dial 9-1-1. You don't have the guts. DO IT!!!" G-Man's eye's widened, and the girl stepped back, holding the desk's phone. She dialed the number, and brought the phone to her ear.  
  
"Hello, 911? This is Pamela O'Mackey. I'm reporting a..." The girl's voice seemed to drift off as the G-Man began to talk to Gordon again.  
  
Well, Gordon, now that you're going to jail, the real fun will begin. Will you help me spread the word, or will I still need to do it myself?   
  
Fine, I'll help you. Gordon could almost feel the G-Man's surprise. Almost. Or maybe he had imagined it.  
  
Yes, Gordon, you just imagined it. I hope you realize that I will still be watching, and if you stop for even one minute; if I feel one weak thought, I'm taking over. Got it?   
  
OK, yes, I get it. Just give me control now. Moments later, Gordon felt power surge throughout his spirit. He flexed his fingers and blinked rapidly. All the while, the clerk was on the phone, and watching Gordon like a hawk.  
  
Maybe this was his chance. Maybe he could run, and the G-Man wouldn't have a chance to react.  
  
That's it, Gordon. I gave you a chance, and you blew it. I'm taking control back.   
  
Wait! Gordon's mind raced. I didn't mean to think that! It just...came. I'm still human, you know. That doesn't mean I have to listen to the urges.   
  
Fine. But, you're on thin ice now, Mr. Freeman.   
  
"So, how about that phone number now, sweet thing?" Gordon grinned a scary grin, and leaned real close to her. Oh well, he thought. Since I'm already going to jail, might as well make the most of it.  
  
"Get away from me, you perv!" To Gordon's surprise, she pulled out some mace and sprayed him in the eyes.  
  
"OWWW!!! OH MY GOD! ARRRGH!!!" Gordon dropped to the ground, hand covering his eyes, and began to roll around. He tried rubbing his eyes fiercly, but it didn't help.  
  
God! Help me! Gordon literally screamed inside of his mind for the G-Man's help.  
  
I don't think I will, Mr. Freeman. I enjoy watching, no, feeling you suffer. Gordon couldn't answer. He was too busy sobbing and trying to clean his eyes. Don't worry, Mr. Freeman. The authorities will be here soon, and then the pain will be worse than you could imagine.   
  
Although he didn't plan on saying it, he just began to scream what the G-Man had originally told him to say...  
  
"The apocalypse is coming! You're all going to die! None of you will survive! Prepare for your doom! Everyone will fall beneath the Zoc't'vicians!!! Prepare for the apocalypse! It's the apocalypse! Apocalypse now!!!"  
  
All right, that's it for chapter two. What do you think? I'll work on the next chapter tomorrow! -Hydraulic Cheese 


	3. Jailbreak

I'm not sure whether this should be rated "R" for this chapter now. What do you think? Oh, and, tags didn't show up so well because of the ff.net server or something...I'm going to try brackets this time...hopefully those will work better...  
  
Chapter Three: Jailbreak  
  
English Version  
  
Tuesday – Day Two  
  
"Ughh..." Gordon lurched to his feet and slowly opened his eyes. Where was he?  
  
[You're in the county jail. You had passed out from the pain or something, and I took control. Now that you're up, I can begin the fun. Mr. Freeman, I hope you don't mind, but I'm taking control again. ]  
  
[Actually, I do mind. ]  
  
[Too bad. It doesn't matter whether you like it or not. I'm taking control. ] Suddenly, Gordon was drawn back from his mind, and all he could do was look through his eyes, hear through his ears, and smell through his nose.  
  
"Hey! Pigs! Get over here!" G-Man – In – Gordon yelled. A cop idly looked up from his newspaper. "Yeah, you. Put down the donuts and get your lard ass over here!" The cop put down the newspaper and stood up slowly; his finger hovering over his tazer the entire time.  
  
"What is it...Uh..." The cop looked at a sheet of paper. "...Gordon?"  
  
"I just thought you might want to know how you're going to die."  
  
"Oh, I get it. You go, 'Oh, you're going to die,' and I go, 'No, please don't kill me. OK, I'll let you go!'" The cop snorted. "Nice try, but I've been in this business a long time. You can't fool me."  
  
"No, nothing like that. I mean, more like...Aliens killing you." G-Man – In – Gordon's eye's widened. The cop snorted again. Angry, G-Man – In – Gordon gave the cop the finger, and instantly disappeared.  
  
"What the hell?" The cop got up and walked over to the cell. "Hello? Mr. Freeman? Don't make me get the court involved!"  
  
Meanwhile, in the dimension that doesn't exist -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~  
  
[Where are we now?] Gordon tried to blink. He failed. The G-Man was still in control.  
  
[We're back in the undeveloped dimension.]  
  
[I thought you said it was an undeveloped universe.]  
  
[I changed my mind.]  
  
[Look, whatever. What are we doing here?]  
  
[I want you to meet the Zoc't'vicians. I want you to meet your ultimate doom.]  
  
[Good, so you're going to kill me?]  
  
[No, but I will terribly injure you.]  
  
[But then you won't be able to use me anymore.]  
  
[Actually, Mr. Freeman, I will. I can create a new body, and move both of our minds into it.]  
  
Damn, Gordon thought. [OK, so let's go.]  
  
[Eager to meet your life of eternal pain, Mr. Freeman?]  
  
[No, but I'm tired of you talking.] There was a sudden flash of light, and then, next thing Gordon knew, he was standing in front of a horde of Xen-like creatures.  
  
[Yes, Mr. Freeman, they ARE much like the Xen, aren't they?] Gordon said nothing. The G-Man let out a series of clicks and whistles. Every creature turned to Gordon and began to walk forward. [Oh, I almost forgot.] They were suddenly in the black universe/dimension again. Gordon had his own body back. So did the G-Man.  
  
"What? Why?" Gordon looked at the G-Man, then at his hands, then back at the G-Man.  
  
"I want you to experience the pain yourself. Anyways, you wont be able to run." The G-Man chuckled. "Let's go back to meet your...new life." With that, they were back on the Xen-like planet. A seven-foot tall Zoc't'vician stepped forward and grabbed Gordon.  
  
Gordon cried out, but was soon silenced by being squeezed tightly by the alien with both of its hands. Soon, tears were running down Gordon's cheeks as he was tied to a violent-looking contraption. His legs were tied to ropes, which were attached to a wheel. His arms were tied to wooden planks riddled with holes. From what he could tell, behind every hole was a half-inch metal nail.  
  
Being a scientist, Gordon could see where this was going. Then something happened that he REALLY didn't like. A leather-like headband was put around his head, also with holes. Directly outside the holes were very thin metal needles. Two additional needles came out of the headband and rested in front of his eyes. Everything was mechanical, and would definitely be very painful.  
  
"Well, well, well, Mr. Freeman, isn't this dangerous-looking? Let me assure you...it is. You'll be sobbing for your mommy soon. And when you're almost dead, I'll transport you to the void and make a new one of you. You'll never die. I'll always keep you alive. Once your spirit's broken, and your will's gone, I'll take you back to Earth, and begin the invasion."  
  
"Please...don't do this..." Gordon was having trouble talking between sobs.  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot!" G-Man began to talk to the Zoc't'vician. The alien being nodded, and strapped a last band around Gordon's neck. This band also had two needles on opposite sides of his neck.  
  
"Oh, God...No..." Gordon closed his eyes, and began to try and ignore what was about to happen. The G-Man talked in the alien tongue. Following the order was a slow creaking. The creaking sped up, and turned into a whirring. First, Gordon's legs began to be stretched. Gordon clenched his teeth. He heard and felt one bone pop, then the next. His eyes flew open, and traveled down to his legs. His veins were rupturing, and his legs appeared to be bleeding. They felt like they were bleeding, too. The roller turned one final time, and then stopped. His legs were completely dislocated, and couldn't move. But Gordon could still feel the pain.  
  
"Hurts, doesn't it, Mr. Freeman?" The G-Man chuckled and narrowed his eyes. Gordon feebly nodded. "Well, it's going to get worse. Much worse." The G-Man began to rapidly converse with another alien. The alien responded. Then a nail by his forehead began to spin, and moved closer. It drilled less then an inch into his skull, and stopped. Gordon's face was wet with blood and tears. The nail was pulled out. One at a time, this process happened for every nail around his head. Blood pooled around his feet, and Gordon's muscles began to spasm. Just when Gordon thought it was at it's worst, the needles in front of his eyes began to move forward.  
  
"Oh...God...Not that.... Please, not that..." The needles move very slowly into his eyes. All Gordon could see was red. Blood everywhere. The needles went into Gordon's neck, and he blacked out.  
  
OK, That's all for chapter three. What do you think? It's defiantly more violent than the previous chapters, but...Yeah. OK, please review now! 


	4. Dark They Were, And Golden Eyed

-- Thanks for all of the positive reviews! Here's the 4th chapter. I plan on ending the story within the next 3-4 chapters, but that might be extended. It all depends. Anyways, here's another segment of Half-Life: Gordon's Dead! --  
  
Chapter Four: Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed.  
  
English Version  
  
Wednesday – Day Three  
  
Gordon slowly sat up. He kept his eyes closed because he could still remember the pain from...yesterday? It must have been yesterday. Carefully, Gordon peeked through one eye, then the other. He could vividly remember dying, but here he was, fine. Except for some bruises, he was relatively healthy. Gordon looked around his new quarters. It was sparsely furnished, and had a stone floor. The walls were painted black.  
  
In one corner, there was a low table. Next to it was a stool. Hanging above Gordon was a naked light bulb. It gave off a dim light. There were cobwebs in ceiling corners. Gingerly, Gordon stepped to his feet. To his left, there was one door. He walked to it, and tried to turn the handle. It was locked, of course.  
  
Now what would he do? Gordon slowly walked over to the table, and noticed that there were a few sheets of paper on them. A pen lay next to them. Gordon sat down, and began to doodle. He had never been much of an artist, but he created a pretty acute drawing of the G-Man with his insides on the out.  
  
Almost as soon as he finished the drawing, Gordon doubled over in pain. He was feeling the worst pain ever inside of his head!  
  
[Naughty, naughty, Gordon. You should know better than to draw something like this. Didn't your mother ever teach you good manners for your hosts?] It was the G-Man, of course. His cold voice actually sounded humored by Gordon's drawing.  
  
"Get...out of....my....head!" Gordon managed to say through gritted teeth. The pain was still there, but not quite as strong.  
  
[You know, Gordon, you're quite an artist. I just felt like complimenting you one more time before hell breaks loose.] Gordon knew what that meant.  
  
"Today?"  
  
[Yes, Gordon, today.] The pain began to subside.  
  
"What if I don't cooperate?" As the words left his mouth, the pain simultaneously intensified. It was as if someone, namely the G-Man, had ripped off Gordon's skull, stabbed his brain with a red-hot fire poker, squeezed lemon juice on the wound, and finally pours salt on the mess. In other words, it hurt like hell. Gordon screamed and fell backwards, writhing on the ground as he raked his fingers at his skull.  
  
[Is that enough to convince you?]  
  
The pain was gone, but the memory wasn't. "Yes." Gordon winced at the thought of the feeling, and slowly got to his feet. The stool had fallen over, so Gordon picked that up, too.  
  
[Good. Now, I'm going to unlock the door in one minute. You will walk through it, and then stop. Understood?]  
  
"Fine, whatever. Just go away." Gordon got up and walked to the door. After he was there for about a minute, Gordon heard the click of a tumbler unlocking. Cautiously, Gordon opened the door a little bit and peeked out.  
  
[For God's sake, Gordon, you need to trust me.]  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
[So I can surprise you easier.] Gordon pushed the door open all the way and stepped forward. The door slammed shut behind him, causing bits of plaster to rain on him from the ceiling. Gordon looked down the hall to his left, and then to his right. The hallway seemed to go on forever.  
  
[Perhaps it does, Mr. Freeman, perhaps it does. Do you care to find out?] Thinking this was an invitation to escape, Gordon began to run to his left. After five minutes of running, he realized he was back to the same plaster-covered area as before.  
  
"Interesting trick you have there. How long did it take for you to think that one up?"  
  
[If you're done, it's time to depart.]  
  
"Where to?"  
  
[Your destiny. Otherwise known as your fate.]  
  
"Back to earth?"  
  
[Yes, Gordon. The invasion begins today.] Gordon didn't even have time to say some smart-ass comeback. He disappeared suddenly, and reappeared just as suddenly, back on earth. He was in the same city he was in before, and the same street he was on when the G-Man first abducted him. In fact, he was in the exact same place.  
  
"I'll bet you think you're clever, don't you?"  
  
[Walk, Mr. Freeman. Walk down to the intersection of 70th and Maple Street.] Gordon did as commanded. Unbeknownst to Gordon, today Hell will collide with the world.  
  
"OK, I'm here. Now what?" People stared at Gordon as they walked by. After all, he was apparently talking to himself.  
  
[Wait.]  
  
So Gordon waited. After fifteen minutes of waiting, a ship landed in the middle of the road. Actually, it crashed. The crash sent flames, stone, dust, and metal into the air. Smoke began to pour out of the wreckage. The explosion caused by the crash killed ten people, and injured many more. Just the wreckage caused havoc, and the day was just beginning. Out came the troops of Zoc't'vicians, hundreds of them. They all stood in a formation, waiting for the orders. They had very dark green skin, almost black. They stood roughly 7 feet tall, with large, yellowish eyes and too many limbs. In every appendage they held some sort of evil-looking weapon.  
  
Finally a hulking monster, even compared to the other soldiers, lumbered out. He carried an incredibly large gun propped on one shoulder, and used both legs and two arms to walk. The commander, as Gordon assumed he was, barked a few orders in a foreign language he had heard used yesterday to the soldiers. The moment this orders were given, all hell broke loose. Every one of the aliens ran in different directions, killing everything that moved, and shooting most things that didn't.  
  
Gordon was completely dumbfounded. What could he do? How could he help?  
  
[You can't Mr. Freeman. The most you can do is wait for the day to end. Or board the Zoc't'vician ship and wait to be transported back to their planet for another day of torturing. That works too.]  
  
Gordon watched a short battle between an alien and a man with an AK- 47. After losing both arms, the man lost. Gordon couldn't believe it. The human race had really come to an end. Glumly, Gordon walked to the ship, and waited for the next day to come.  
  
-- OK, how's that? I know it's not as long as the last 2 chapters, but I'm not feeling too good right now, and I just wanted to update the story so people wouldn't forget about it. Maybe once I feel better, I'll fix it. Yeah. That sounds good. Anyways, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy. I went to my state's science fair and placed 6th. Ok, enough of that. Until next time, -Hydraulic Cheese -- 


	5. It's All Just a Dream

-- Today, I was losing my creativity for the battle between the Zoc't'vicians and humans (if you can call it a battle. I think more like "slaughter"), so I decided to write up a dream Gordon has, and a surprise sequence of events near the end. Read it, yo! --  
  
Chapter Five: It's All Just A Dream  
  
English Version  
  
Thursday – Day Four  
  
Darkness. Darkness surrounded him. It engulfed him. It was his very essence. Everywhere he looked, there was the darkness. He swam in it, ran in it, breathed it, and drank it. The darkness flowed through him the way a lava flows through a volcano, bursting to get out.  
  
Right when he was most comfortable with the darkness, it began to leave! Quickly, the darkness began to seep away from him. Why would it leave him? He ran, swam, flew, tried anything to get back to the darkness. It was futile.  
  
White! Blinding, white light surrounded him now. It chased away the darkness. The light chased the darkness from inside of him. He felt hollow and empty. His emptiness, along with the light, scared him. It shrunk him. He appeared small and insignificant. When all the darkness was gone, the feeling began to leave him, too. Also, the blinding white light began to fade away, revealing a mountainous landscape.  
  
Where was he? He, who could now identify himself as the scientist Gordon Freeman, tried to understand why he was here, wherever "here" was. To his left was a gigantic waterfall, which turned into a river, which turned into a blue, clear lake. To his right was a shed. Upon closer inspection, it had a door, with a lock on it. Taking out his crowbar, Gordon began to hit the lock. It melted and ran in small streams around his shoes, pooling near the soles. With the lock gone, Gordon could easily open the door. After doing so, he stepped in. It was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Maybe it wasn't. Oh well, it didn't matter.  
  
What mattered was the puddle of lock. It was dripping into the shed. Although Gordon wouldn't normally be intrigued as he was, something compelled him to look at it. The puddle had shaped an image of its former self, only without any real depth, or solidity. Gordon kneeled next to it. He took out his crowbar again, and prodded the puddle. The liquid instantly solidified before his eyes on the crowbar, but maintained its liquid state on the ground. Gingerly, Gordon stuck his finger in the puddle. The metallic liquid was hotter than boiling water! He checked his finger for burns, only to find the metal had once again solidified on another solid.  
  
The metal on his finger was beginning get warmer. Soon it was scalding his skin again. Then it dripped off, and the pain began to subside. Somehow, Gordon knew this puddle would be important, but he didn't know why. Or how. He just knew.  
  
He stood up and began to look around the shed again. It seemed memories from Black Mesa were scattered all around. To his left, he saw a headcrab, lying on its back. A zombie was slumped against a wall past it. There was at least one of every Xen he had fought.  
  
The headcrab was the most interesting in his eyes. Its legs were twitching at irregular intervals. Gordon walked over, and hit it once with his crowbar, which seemed to get longer whenever he needed it to be. After hitting it, the crowbar shrunk again. As soon as the crowbar had shrunk, the headcrab got up, as if just been woken from a deep sleep. It took a few steps to the left, then backwards.  
  
Suddenly, the headcrab became aware of the presence of Gordon. It began to run towards him, and took a flying leap, screeching the entire time. Gordon raised his crowbar, which decided at that moment to turn into a pistol, and shot the creature in midair. It cried out in anguish as a back leg was blown off. Had Gordon's aim really gotten that bad?  
  
Surprisingly, the headcrab continued to limp towards Gordon, screeching in a more pitiful then frightening manner. Unfortunately, just because it was now a tripod and sounded weak, it wasn't. It leapt towards Gordon again with amazing speed and strength. Gordon took careful aim, which he had time to do because the world had suddenly seemed to slow down at least 4 times. He shot the hovering headcrab three times right in the midsection. It let out a deep, slow screech which sped up into the all-too-familiar high-pitched screech of a headcrab as time sped up. The pistol suddenly turned into a shotgun afterwards, too. The headcrab fell on its side, and didn't move. At this moment, Gordon felt a wave of relief sweep across him. This feeling didn't last long, though, because the zombie Gordon had noticed before began to climb to his feet. Raising the once-pistol-but-now-shotgun, Gordon prepared himself for the attack.  
  
It didn't come. At least, the one Gordon was prepared for didn't come. The headcrab that Gordon knew he had killed had leapt towards him; hole in his middle, and no leg. Yellow blood was all over the ground, and was still gushing from the wounds. This caused the headcrab to have slick skin, which partly helped Gordon not to be dead right now. It slid past him, and skid across the floor. Gordon raised the shotgun, and right before Gordon pulled the trigger, time once again slowed down. Gordon looked around at the frozen world. Some blood from the headcrab hung in midair. Without waiting any longer, he pulled the trigger once, twice, three times and watched in half-amazement, half-bewilderment as the bullets slowly shot forward, broke apart, and eventually hit the headcrab. As soon as the last bullet hit, time sped up again, and the headcrab spun in the air before landing on the ground with a "SPLAT". Gordon walked over to make sure it was dead. He nudged it with his foot. It wasn't dead, but very much alive!  
  
What was going on? The headcrab should have been dead long before now. They never acted like this back at Black Mesa. Why wasn't the headcrab dying?  
  
Gordon didn't have time to answer these questions. Instead, he shot the headcrab some more until all that was left was a very thin frame and two legs. It stopped moving. Taking no chances, Gordon kicked it as hard as he could. It flew through the air, screeching wildly. Eventually, it landed and skidded across the floor and came to a rest in the puddle of lock. It struggled to get up, but it couldn't. The lock had solidified around him, leaving him melted to the floor!  
  
Gordon looked over his shoulder just in time to see the zombie swing his arms at him. Ducking, Gordon swore at his stupidity. Why did he forget about the zombie? Gordon hoped that this zombie wouldn't be like the headcrab, and never die. He shot it in the chest with the shotgun, as he nearly avoided another attack. It fell backwards, and then got back up. Obviously, it wasn't going to die as easily as it should. The shotgun had transformed into a crowbar again as Gordon was pulling the trigger. Gordon didn't know why his weapon kept morphing, but he didn't have time to dwell on this. Crouching, he slashed at the zombie's legs until the legs were rendered useless. It collapsed to the ground in a puddle of its own blood, but that didn't stop it. The zombie began to crawl towards Gordon by digging its claws into the ground and pulling its severed torso forward.  
  
Gordon carefully aimed and shot it right at the base of the neck twice. The headcrab jumped off, virtually unharmed. Cursing again, Gordon shot it as time slowed down for a third time. This time, Gordon was used to it, and took advantage of the slowdown. He grabbed the headcrab and, hoping time wouldn't speed up soon, pushed it in the lock puddle next to the other headcrab. Backing away, time sped up again and the headcrab struggled to free itself. Gordon looked around at the other objects in the shed, which appeared to be more of a museum of Gordon's past.  
  
Nearby was the body of Barney, a guard and a friend from his days at Black Mesa. Other, unidentifiable bodies lay close to him, too. Shuddering, Gordon backed out of the shed. Whatever else was in this shed, he didn't want to see it. Outside, the scenery had drastically changed. It was now a stone cliff, with a violent ocean below. There was a huge storm brewing overhead, and a man sat on a rock, slouched over and staring out at the sea.  
  
Gordon wasn't sure whether to walk up to the man, or ignore him. He looked vaguely familiar, but Gordon wasn't sure where he'd know the man from. Gordon decided to take the chance, and walked over to the man. From the side view, Gordon was shocked at who it was. He was in his late fifties, or early sixties, and looked older, but Gordon recognized him instantly. It was himself, only older and more beat-up! The man paid no attention to Gordon, or even acknowledged his presence. He just stared out at the sea, breathing lightly.  
  
"Why didn't you do something?" Gordon was surprised at the sudden question. The man appeared to not even notice Gordon was standing besides him, so it took a minute for Gordon to realize he was talking to him.  
  
"Do…something?"  
  
"Yes, why didn't you stop him? You had a perfect chance!"  
  
"Stop who?"  
  
"You know who. I shall not speak of his name. He let you live….if you can call it that. Daily torture sessions and no mental privacy is not exactly my idea of a life. You could have easily stopped him."  
  
"No I couldn't have. I'm powerless against him."  
  
"Oh. Is that true?" The older image of himself was stretching and twisting into a new image. In a minute, Gordon was staring at the G-Man. "Glad to know you admit it. Now it's time for you to wake up. It's time to feel the pain of life."  
  
Gordon couldn't help it. He began to run. Not in any particular direction, just running. Soon, he had skidded off the cliff. He began to plummet. All the while, Gordon could hear the G-Man laughing manically in his ears.  
  
The ground neared closer as Gordon fell closer and closer towards it. Closer, closer, and closer still. The last thing Gordon saw was a rock which had the words "No Outlet" on it, and then everything went black.  
  
The G-Man looked around. He appeared to be in a warehouse. Why? He walked over to a large manila envelope and opened it up. It was a letter he had written while he was at Black Mesa. He had sent it to the Black Ops HQ. It was signed "G. Man" He could remember vividly remember writing that. What had his name once been? It hadn't always been "G. Man", or "G-Man". He couldn't remember his original name.  
  
But the letter didn't explain why he was here. Or where "here" was. After examining a few more envelopes, he concluded this was a best described as a warehouse of his memories. There were pictures of his childhood, the Black Mesa incident, his days at the University, and fresher ones of him with the Zoc't'vicians. Finally, he found a letter he had written in 4th grade to his teacher requesting a seat change. It was pathetically written, with many spelling mistakes and a barely readable handwriting. It was signed "Fredrick Georgio, 5th row, 3rd seat".  
  
Yes, that was it. Fredrick. "Rick" was his nickname. He had not been called either name in over 40 years. No, it's been 50. That would make him…63? Age didn't matter once you've been genetically altered by a superior race so your cells would never deteriorate. Looking through, he came across his college diploma, along with his DUI certificate. If it's been 50 years since he was called Fredrick, it's been around 40 years since he had a beer.  
  
Fredrick, or Rick, as he decided to think of himself as, continued to walk down the aisles of the warehouse. He came across the obituary of his dead grandmother, father, and mother. He had forgotten what his parents were like. He remembered he had parents, but he had completely forgotten what they were like. After seeing pictures of them, he began to recall. His father came first. His name was Jose. He died at the age of 76. His birthday was August 5th. He was intelligent, but never got his diploma. His family couldn't afford college, and his final high school GPA was one point below what was needed for the scholarship.  
  
His mother's name was Andrea. She had graduated college, and went on to be a realtor. She was 30 when she had him, and died at the age of 80. She was terminally ill for less than six months, and ultimately died of lung cancer. Andrea came from a fairly rich family, and always had what she needed. Her parents were amazed when she announced her engagement to Jose. They couldn't believe their ears. They begged her to change her mind, and offered her many attractive men for her to change her mind. Nothing deterred her from marrying Jose, though. Her parents banished her, and acted as if Andrea was a miscarriage. Andrea was abashed at the harshness of her own parents, but soon grew used to it. They threw away all pictures or records of her birth, and would deny the fact that they had ever had any more children than three to anyone.  
  
Rick didn't even realize that was crumpling the photo. He looked down at it, released his hand, and let it fall to the ground. Before it hit, though, it burst into flames and incinerated, leaving no trace of its existence behind. Rick began to walk down the aisles again, examining different objects and letters. He began to realize that the artifacts were arranged in chronological order, going from the beginning of his life to now. He passed by a body of a long-since-forgotten uncle. He continued walking, and then he reached the area marking the beginning of the Black Mesa incident. There was a pile of ripped-up headcrabs, zombies, dead scientists and guards, and numerous Xen bodies. Then came the Zoc't'vicians. There were few bodies of them, but mostly bodies of humans, ripped to pieces from the alien-induced massacres. Rick hadn't realized that he had killed this many people, but most of them were useless. Anyways, it was time to, if you'd excuse the expression, "take out the trash."  
  
Rick felt no sympathy for the dead humans, but rather felt a pride that he'd issued the order that killed them. As he progressed down the rows and rows of memories, he noticed a change. He began to see things that he had never seen. He was beyond his current time. There was letters written in Xor'k, the Zoc't'vician language, which he was fluent in. They began very orderly, but began to lose the harshness, and began to seem as if a confused man was writing them. He noticed grammar mistakes and incorrect characters that should have had an extra line or one less line. He was watching his own senility. The pictures were of him marching troops of Zoc't'vicians around Earth, whipping slave humans. Gordon was in a few of the photos, and every time he was clearly unhappy. There were scars and cuts and bruises covering his body. Apparently, Rick had stopped giving Gordon new bodies as often as he began. Perhaps he had forgotten.  
  
Then, he found some more images that made his heart stop. His blood ran cold. There was a sequence of pictures that included the torture device Rick, himself, had hooked up to Gordon many times before. Except there was one difference: he was hooked up. There was blood pouring out of throat, forehead, and many other areas of his body. He had had his skin peeled back on both arms. The skull was completely visible; the skin had also been peeled back.  
  
This was his fate? Was he going to be killed slowly by his own army? Why would this happen?  
  
Rick began to feel really weak. It seemed as if the world around him was melting. No, wait. It really was melting. The shelves around him melted and began to swirl. He fell to his knees. His head really hurt. Rick grabbed the sides of his head.  
  
All of a sudden, Rick was outside of his body, staring at his gaunt face. No, that wasn't the face of Rick. That was the G-Man. He was no longer Rick. Sure, he could call himself whatever he wanted, but as far as the rest of the universe was concerned, Rick was dead. The G-Man was here to stay.  
  
Rick watched as the G-Man's head split into two pieces, and fell lifelessly to the ground. They, too, incinerated before actually touching the ground. The body of the G-Man slumped over, and millions of tiny Zoc't'vicians poured out of his neck. They swarmed everywhere, chewing everything up. They reminded Rick of locusts.  
  
Right before his eyes, the warehouse was chewed to pieces, leaving an inky blackness behind. Soon, there was no warehouse, only darkness. Darkness was everywhere. He couldn't see anything, but he had the slightest feeling that he had seen this blackness before…  
  
--Okay, that's it for chapter 5! What'd you think? Please leave all comments! I know that the names for the G-Man and his family weren't the most original, but I think it fits. I wanted to give a little background story to the G-Man, and also add a little dementedness to Gordon's mind. Anyways, please reciew!  
  
-HydraulicCheese-- 


	6. Mind Over Matter

ALL RIGHT! It's been forever since I updated this, but lately I've been getting more reviews, and so I decided to go for it. The long awaited Chapter Six!

Chapter Seven IS in production now, and will be posted sometime later. Enjoy!

Chapter Six: Mind over Matter

English Version

??? – Day ???

Gordon rolled over onto a rock. He leapt to his feet, instantly alert, pulling a non-existent crowbar/pistol from his non-existent holster and aiming it at the rock, which in his delirium was a non-existent headcrab. The non-existent headcrab let out a non-existent screech, and jumped towards Gordon. He yelped and dived for cover. When he came up from cowering, the headcrab was gone. All that was left was a rock, right where it had been sitting.

Gordon sighed, and put the non-existent weapon back into its non-existent holster. This had been going on all day. Here it was, somewhere after mid-day on the Zoc't'vician planet named Cex, and he had already suffered from three hallucinations. It didn't help the fact that he had experienced a dream that made him begin to question his own sanity. These hallucinations answered the question.

Gordon didn't like to admit it, but he was going insane. There was no point in denying it. After being kept without food for five days, and getting very little REM, he was beginning to suffer from the textbook example of losing touch on reality.

Speaking of that dream last night, what was that? What did it mean? Was it just another tip-off that he was losing his mind? Or had he already lost it? These were too many questions to be asked by a man who only had days to live.

Then the question of "Why should he care" reared its ugly head. Why not just give up? There really wasn't any point in trying anymore. He was doomed to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He might as well just go off into his imaginary world and spend his last few days there, never coming out.

Well, that just wouldn't work, Gordon. It was the G-Man again.

"And why not?" Gordon was tired of thinking, so he just spoke aloud.

Because then I couldn't have fun with you, of course. 

"Of course," Gordon muttered. He pretended to take the imaginary crowbar out of the imaginary holster and have a duel with the rock, which he was pretending was an imaginary headcrab. The G-Man sighed inside his head and the rock disappeared.

"Great, so now who am I going to kill?" Gordon looked around, trying to determine where the G-Man might be. As he did so, he put the imaginary crowbar back into his imaginary holster, and pulled out an imaginary Magnum.

Gordon….Gordon, Gordon, Gordon…You think I cannot see what you are…"holding?" He let out a slow laugh. Gordon thought it might have been forced, but he was going insane, so he didn't have a right to assume things. I can see into your imagination, and I must say, you _are_ persistent. The imaginary Magnum disappeared magically, and Gordon's hand went limp.

"What's going on, G? C'mon, talk to me. They don't call me Dr. Freeman for nothing, you know." There was much more than just a touch of irony in his voice.

The G-Man didn't respond, but suddenly Gordon lost control of his body again. He was flung up against a wall, and then against another. The walls were made of stone, so Gordon assumed that he was in a cave. Quite a nice cave, too. Not one of those dreary, moss-covered damp caves you used to see on TV. This was a dry, rocky cave. Gordon like it.

Will you pay attention while I'm torturing you? The G-Man's voice was slightly elevated, and sounded disturbed. The G-Man, the master of emotional discretion, was breaking.

I don't know. I mean, what color _should_ the cave paintings be? I think red would look nice, but then again, yellow would stand out more. I'll let you decide. Gordon's voice was high-pitched, and his brain was working in spasm. He was past the point of no return.

How about I show you the remainder of Earth, Mr. Freeman? The G-Man decided to stop calling Gordon by his first name as he could probably call him Cheese-Wiz and he'd respond.

That'd be…super….duper…..G-Diddy….. The G-Man took Gordon to the center of a city. Or, rather, what was left of a city. New York City, to be precise. Thousands of humans were chained around the neck and the legs, walking in a straight line with Zoc't'vicians whipping them on their backs. Each person was carrying a large slab of concrete. When a person reached the end of a line, which was a giant pit in the middle of the street, they tossed the slab into the hole and were unchained thrown into a cage. In the pit there were many more people, working on grinding the concrete. One group of people were putting the slabs in a type of funnel, where another group of people were smashing the stone into powder with blunt, rusty pickaxes. After the stones were made into powder, they poured through the funnel into crudely-made stone bowls. The bowls were picked up by two people and carried to another section of the pit. In this section, people turned over the powder into square molds. Another group would pour some kind of black liquid into the mold, and more people would mix the two substances together. Eventually, a stone block would be made. Each person would then individually carry a stone block up the side of the pit (which was about 30 feet deep), and carry it to another group of people. This group was taking the blocks and constructing a large building. This building would eventually turn into the palace for the Overlord.

"Hey, hey, hey, kiddies! Will you look at…that? We can…Do amazing things….When we all work…To…to…toge….together…" Gordon's voice trailed off, and his eyes rolled into his head. He collapsed to the ground.

Wake up, Gordon. Wake up and….smell the ashes. Gordon heard the G-Man whispering in his mind, saying something that Gordon hadn't heard for a very, very long time. He slowly opened his eyes, but had to instantly squint them due to an extraordinarily bright light coming from a unknown source.

"…" Gordon tried to speak, but he couldn't move his mouth. It even took him a moment to realize he could think again. Seeing as he couldn't talk, Gordon decided to try communicating to the G-Man through thought patterns again.

What did you do to me? Gordon tried to think straight, but the bright light impaired his mind. He was developing a splitting headache.

Now, now, Gordon…Is that any way to thank your savior? Gordon could actually _feel_ the G-Ma sneer. He hadn't been able to do that. Ever.

Savior? _Savior? SAVIOR?_ Gordon's eye's glared upwards. He tried to turn his head, to look behind him, but Gordon realized he couldn't move his head either. In fact, Gordon couldn't move any body parts at all. He was completely paralyzed, save the eyes and eyebrows.

Why, yes, Gordon. Your savior. Who pulled you back up the cliff of insanity and brought you away from it? You had lost your mind, Mr. Freeman, and I found it and gave it back to you. I gave you new life. I _saved_ you. Now, I'll be expecting a "thank you," and then we can get on with my life. 

Why can't I move? Gordon couldn't even feel his body parts.

Why do you think? I've immobilized you, Mr. Freeman. 

What happened to our first-name basis? 

I decided I didn't like you getting too close to me. I want to keep this purely business. I don't allow my love life to interfere with my business life. Gordon was slightly dumfounded.

So you _do_ have a sense of humor that's not dark and twisted? There was silence for a few seconds, and then the G-Man replied.

No. I used to, but that part of me is long gone. I must depart, Mr. Freeman. However, I _will_ see you up ahead. Again with the memory jogging of the past.

Why do you torment me with my past life?! Gordon felt his eyes bulging. He didn't like remembering what had happened back in Europe.

I just don't want you to forget our little….Family vacation. Gordon felt the G-Man beginning to move away from his mind.

Wait! What about me? An instant later, a full-body mirror appeared in front of Gordon. He was missing all body parts except for his head. He didn't have a mouth anymore, either. Gordon's mind began to reel, and he tried to close his eyes. They wouldn't close anymore. He had lost complete control.

The G-Man was back in his personal universe, drifting slowly throughout the space he had just created. Small colonies were flying throughout the open air in space ships, and colliding into his body, which was trillions times larger than them in comparison. The G-Man didn't even notice. He was too busy, deep in thought.

What's happening to me? The G-Man hadn't been the same since he had that dream, and he wasn't even sure how long ago the disturbing dream had taken place. It was so real… He could still feel the letters in his hands… He could still hear the echoing of his feet down the hallway. But that was impossible. It was a dream. Sometimes dreams can deceive the mind; alter perception. There was no possible way that the dream could physically have existed.

But then again…In this universe, the physics that bound the Terra universe would not necessarily be the same as they are here. Where had they been during that period of sleep? Had they left the Terra universe? Had they warped into this universe? Had they entered an entirely new universe, altogether? Did it matter?

Yes, the G-Man decided. It _did_ matter, and it also mattered that he keep his mind.

"Mustn't let the figment of one's imagination deter one from one's imminent accomplishment." He hadn't even realize that he had spoken those words aloud, until a small space pod containing a message in response to what he had said flew over to him. It glided into his face and bounced off his nose. Annoyed by the distraction, the G-Man flicked the pod away, causing it to collide into a nearby son, which caused the fuel capacitors in the pod to supercharge the sun into going supernova, which ultimately wiped out the entire miniature solar system. This gave the G-Man an idea.

Yes. Every action causes a chain reaction. It is unavoidable. One cannot attempt to _avoid_ this chain reaction, which would be me trying to avoid my painful demise, but one must learn to work _with _this chain reaction, using it to one's own advantage. Perhaps, if one could come to understand _how_ the Zoc't'vicians renegaded against oneself, one could take this knowledge and stop the first event causing this reaction. The G-Man began to think. What could have caused him to be murdered by his allies, his army? What could have caused a group of alien _slaves_ to kill their master? The G-Man knew that the Zoc't'vicians hated him. But they were powerless against him. The G-Man had, long ago, harnessed the technology Nihilanth utilized on the Vortigaunt slaves to work on other species. Then, after peace had came over the world again, and the G-Man was fired, he had stolen the neck chains and fled the country.

Wandering from country to country, as an exile, he eventually came across a very intelligent old man that was known by the name of Lio. Although he had a doctorate in physics, he chose not to go by Dr. Lio, but instead just Lio. Lio had been working, for the past half-century, on a teleportation device. Now, the G-Man already knew every secret about Xen teleportation, but he wanted to witness this man discover it on his own. So, choosing not to reveal his own information, the G-Man sat back and watched. Soon, Lio had broken the code, and had successfully transported a large bull from one end of Asia to the other, without the bull dying.

Overjoyed, Lio asked the G-Man what he should do with his new, ground-breaking invention. The G-Man was about to say he should patent it, but then an idea struck him. He was exiled from his the United States, and he had nowhere he could call a home. Essentially, he had no place on this planet. So, why not leave the planet? The G-Man asked Lio if he had attempted to transport a living, breathing, human being through the portal. Of course, Lio answered "No." Being the deceitful, intelligent man the G-Man is, he asked Lio if _he_ could be the test subject. Lio, trusting the G-Man, fell for his trap, and agreed. As Lio began recording some observations in another room, the G-Man changed around some of the coding to randomly transport him somewhere into another dimension.

Lio came back, and asked the G-Man if he was ready. The G-Man said he was, so Lio fired up the machine. Soon, the portal was glowing green. Lio told the G-Man it was ready, and to step through in exactly three seconds. The G-Man counted out the seconds perfectly, and then took a deep breathe, and stepped through.

It was a feeling unlike anything else the G-Man had experienced before. He felt as if every aspect of his body was crushed and separated, then fixed again. Suddenly, he was under great pressure. He couldn't breath. The G-Man figured he was in a liquid of some sort. Then he was gone. He was being teleported again. The G-Man appeared on a desert-like landscape, on all fours, gasping and coughing up the liquid. It was purple, and didn't look healthy. There were noises all around the G-Man, so he looked up. He was surrounded by maybe twenty large, green, aliens. They were all holding some sort of violent weapon.

It took many years, but eventually, the G-Man tricked the aliens, who were the Zoc't'vicians, into moving him to the top. There, he was able to use the power of the Vortigaunt's slave harness on the chief leader. By doing that, he was able to control the rest of the Zoc't'vicians, as they didn't think individually, but by orders given by the emperor. The G-Man needed revenge against his country, and over the years, his hatred twisted into a desire for revenge against the entire planet. That's how he became the leader of the Zoc't'vicians, and that's how he started his domination.

But how can I use this to use this to stop my downfall? The G-Man couldn't think of anything, Perhaps his mind was going away. Perhaps I am meant to die. He shook his head silently.

"No. Nothing is certain. God doesn't exist, and neither does fate. They are both badly written fables, whimsical to think about, but horrible to clog the mind. I learned that while I was still in my youth, and I shan't forget it now. There's nothing more to think about now, but I'll ponder this predicament later." There was a flash of light, vaporizing everything in the area, and the G-Man was gone; gone back to the world of destruction and despair.


	7. Alliance is a Four Letter Word

Took me long enough, huh! Haha. Ok, well, this is chapter seven. The story's been extended to eight chapters because I didn't want to end it yet. I hope you enjoy this, and I hope it was worth the wait. Now read!

Chapter Seven: Alliance is a Four Letter Word

English Version

Monday – Day Nine

"Ugh." Gordon got up and shook his head. Where was he now? What day was it? Was that a noise behind him?

Gordon turned around on the heel of his feet, only to come face-to-face with the G-Man. Usually, he wore a smirk, but today, the G-Man's face was grave.

"What do you want." Gordon wasn't asking a question. It was just a flat statement. He knew what the G-Man wanted. It was the same thing he always wanted. He brought some form of news or instrument to further torture Gordon.

"As you know, it's been a week since we became re-acquainted." The G-Man appeared uncomfortable in this room with Gordon. Why?

"It's only been a week? No. It's been longer. You're lying."

The G-Man slowly shook his head. "No, it's been a week. A lot's happened in this week. Care to see?" The G-Man extended an arm. Gordon shrugged his shoulders, and also extended an arm.

They were off. Gordon only caught glimpses of each area they appeared in, but it was enough to understand. First, they were in what appeared to be a dilapidated library. A strange sort of makeshift throne was in the center of the broken-down building. It appeared to be made of chewed paper.

"Yes, that's paper. Interesting, isn't it? Hundreds of years of knowledge you humans gathered, only to be reduced to a chair for the Ruler to sit upon. It should make you think about your whole life. What did it accomplish? Nothing. There's a chance that your research paper from the University is buried among that paper, as well." A large brown alien came lumbering out of a hole nearby, and was dragging a large chain of people behind it. The alien, who was presumably the Ruler of this area, sat down in the throne with a heavy thud, and grabbed a person. Gordon tried to shut his eyes, but the G-Man was controlling him again. Disgusted, Gordon was forced to watch this monstrosity eat a citizen alive.

Then the location changed. They were at an intersection now. A ship lay crashed to the left of them. The air was thick with a smoke that smelled like rotting plants. Cars lay strewn about, some smoldering, with charred rubble nearby them. Craters varying in size and shape were all around, which Gordon assumed were created by some massive weapon.

"Familiar, Mr. Freeman? It should be. This is the street that you were on the first time I teleported you away. Look, over there," the G-Man pointed to a street corner, "Over there is where I took control and warned the man of the end. Foolish, he was. Maybe now he takes you more seriously. But wait, he can't. It would be quite a task for him to take you seriously, since he's now not among the living anymore."

Just as suddenly as before, they were in a cave. The smell of mold clung to Gordon's nostrils. It was putrid, but there was nothing Gordon could do to avoid the stench. He had to bear it, but the humans chained together with dull pickaxes were too much to stand. There were watched over by a large type of Zoc't'vician that Gordon hadn't seen before, but Gordon was used to seeing new forms of this horrid race these days. The humans were further digging through the tunnel, and another chained group of humans were pulling large containers up a track to dump the dirt and rocks. Deep in the bowels of the tunnel, Gordon saw a faint illumination. The G-Man began to make Gordon float down the tunnel. Along the walls, messages were scratched it, mainly marking dates of stopping the digging. Sometimes a message would begin which seemed to be directed to another human, but the words would stop abruptly, and a splotch of blood would follow the scratchings. Apparently the Zoc't'vicians don't like humans talking to each other.

Gordon shook his head, in a futile attempt to clear the images swirling through his mind of a man hunched over this very same portion of the wall. In this image, the man was scratching the message; eyes darting over his shoulder every few moments. Suddenly, a Zoc't'vician grabbed the man's shoulder, and before he could cry out, his insides were slashed out. Had Gordon eaten in the last 48 hours, he would have vomited. But, as he hadn't, nothing noticeable came up. It was after this that Gordon realized that he was no longer moving down the tunnel. He had stopped. As the confusion set, the G-Man answered his unasked question.

"Very pretty, isn't it, Mr. Freeman? You see, if you think about it, a simple-minded race such as the Zoc't'vicians were able to develop space travel, adapt to other planets, and triumph over any form of life they face. Oh? Well, Mr. Freeman, that wasn't a very nice thought. Yes, I did help them, per se, but not as you think of it. I merely, if you will, pointed them in the right direction. I'm a monster? Perhaps I am, in your view. Perspectives are very interesting things. From your perspective, I'm a, as you have just called me, a soulless bastard. From the point of view this dead man lying in front of you, I am nonexistent. From the point of myself, I am only doing what's best for the better of two distinguished races. From the point of the average Zoc't'vician, I am a leader. From the point of you, twenty years ago, I was a mysterious figure, always saving you at the last second, almost a savior, but never seen long enough to be titles that.

"Perspective is everything. Belief is more. You believe that I could not do a good thing in my life. I believe I already have. The Zoc't'vians believe that I will do more, and that you will die. We all share that belief. Without belief, life is worthless. Without hopes, dreams, goals, life becomes an empty shell. Without desire, there is no willpower to go on. So why do it, Mr. Freeman? Why go on? Why not just settle into despair, lose your will to survive, and die?

"Ah, but that's the enigma. Many life forms that have free thought think this, at one time in their life. One thing stops most from the imminent death they elegantly plan out in their mind. Do you know what this is, Mr. Freeman? Yes, it is hope. The hope that soon, life will get better. The hope that it can't stay this bad. The hope that it doesn't need to end, nor will it end, here.

"What do you think, Mr. Freeman? Will it get better? Will you live? The answer is, of course, no. You are on a set path. You are in a rare situation. You are a rare specimen in this course of survival. One's life cannot improve when their life is governed, in every aspect, by another individual. You are living this life, and your outcome is literally in my grasp. I decide what happens to you, and I decide how you will fall. And believe me, Mr. Freeman, I have decided. All that has happened in your past 20 years of existence has been moved along by me. It was because of me, my thoughts and my plan, because of me that the Resonance Cascade occurred. It was due to me that Black Mesa fell, and because of me that wherever you went, your path was pure ruins.

"No, Mr. Freeman, this was not all senseless violence. Every day you have a choice to make, and every day, you could have gone down another path. What would have happened if you had never taken that job at Black Mesa? I would have gotten to you another way. You see, Mr. Freeman, I am like your god. Your fate is in my mind. I see you dying again and again, whenever I want to. I can view it from another timetable, under different circumstances, and by different means. You might argue that this is all impossible, because of chaos. But, Mr. Freeman, this is all within probability, and possibility. I control you, and you have no control over any aspect of your life. The sooner you get through this, the better.

"But, Mr. Freeman, I fear that I must bring this speech to an end. As much of a pleasure it has been talking to you, I have other duties to attend to. Not only that, but you must be anxious to get back to this, how shall I put it, _tour_. It's almost like being back on the tram at Black Mesa, isn't it?" Gordon felt the G-Man smirk, and then he was gone.

Slowly, Gordon began to move again. The last message disappeared out of view, and a rotting body of a headless man lay, sprawled out, a few meters ahead. Gordon tried to wince, but couldn't. The smell began to grow stronger, and snorts of Zoc't'vicians started to become audible. He was obviously getting nearer to the end of this tunnel.

The G-Man felt the dry, hot wind of the Zoc't'vician desert as soon as he had materialized there. He instantly wished he didn't have to be here, but this was one of the few places that he could be alone, without being in complete empty space. He sighed, and materialized a sitting chair nearby him. He collapsed into the seat, and began writing in the air to go over his plans once more.

Ever since he had that dream where he viewed the Zoc't'vicians overthrowing his power, the G-Man had been contemplating various plans in which he could avoid this. He needed a plan that would not seem suspicious, and would be completely foolproof. Gordon needed to die, and the G-Man needed to escape death from the Zoc't'vicians. So far, his plans had flaws, and could seem suspicious, to say the least. Gordon wouldn't fall for it for an instant. However, the G-Man feared that once he did get a plan that would work, it would instantly be realized, due to the Zoc't'vician's telepathy. This posed as a very big problem.

Idly, the G-Man began drawing grids in the air, working on a complex plan that could only be understandable with knowledge of math that only a few people, one being the G-Man, knew. Shapes and lines faded in and out of view as they cycled through probability. A cube began to morph, and vertexes formed, as the shape was distorted through space. A minute later it was a sphere, and a minute after that, it was a diamond. Then, as the space shrunk to two dimensions, the diamond became a flat triangle. Seemingly at random, because it was, this behavior continued.

As the G-Man watched this for a few minutes, which often helped him think, suddenly the shape spontaneously disappeared. Confused, the G-Man looked over the math that the coordinates of the shape used. Everything looked normal, by his standards, and there wasn't anything on probability in there. The G-Man frowned. This didn't make any sense. Objects don't just spontaneously disappear, especially in the grid. After re-reading the formula for a third time, it hit the G-Man what had caused the removal of the shape. Through a simple error in the formula of the coordinates, the G-Man had unknowingly written a formula utilizing the fourth dimension, Time. Astounded, the G-Man checked over the formula again, just to be sure. It checked out. In roughly two minutes, the shape would suddenly appear again, exactly as it had looked before. The G-Man sat back, hoping this was correct.

It was. Two minutes later, the shape returned, looking exactly as it had right before it left. It resumed morphing itself like nothing had happened. The G-Man felt as if he had been a blind man and now had his vision restored. Turning to face a blank spot of air, the he rapidly began writing formulas and drawing grids. The G-Man had just come up with a plan. This plan would work, it would work perfectly, and best of all, nobody could stop him.

For what seemed like the fourth time that day, Gordon lurched to his feet off the cold ground; feeling like he had just drunk an entire Vegas bar. In other words, Gordon felt like hell. The room swayed around him, and Gordon almost fell over. The ground really felt like it was spinning. Where was he?

The room was dark, and there was no real determinable light source. Images of the tunnel danced through his mind, and because of how dark it was, they still showed up when Gordon kept his eyes open. Gordon decided, after a few minutes of standing still, that it was safe to try and take a few steps; to explore his new chamber. A moment later, he realized that he was wrong. Gordon fell over onto his side, and clutched his hip as he landed on it. A searing pain had gone straight through his side. After a quick observation, Gordon deduced that he had bruised his hip.

Unsure of what to do now, Gordon merely lay on his back on the ground for an undeterminable amount of time. It could have been five minutes, or an hour. Gordon didn't know how to measure time here, nor did he care. All he kept thinking about was what the G-Man had told him. Why go on? Why not end it? Why? His cold, calm voice echoed over and over in his mind; reverberating. Again and again, the G-Man repeated the key parts of his speech, until Gordon found himself clutching the sides of his head, writhing on the ground in a mental agony.

Slowly, Gordon began to calm down. His face cleared up. Why go on? It was clear what the G-Man was telling him. What is the point? Why not end it now? Yes…Gordon understood. The G-Man was right. Why go on? There was no reason to stay alive. No point, no reason, no will.

But that, right there, was a reason. That, right there, gave him will. The G-Man would like nothing less than for Gordon to die. The G-Man would like nothing more than to be proved right, once again. And at that moment, Gordon also understood why the G-Man had put him in this chamber. The sides, which Gordon could now make out in the twilight, were smooth, hard, and could easily do damage if struck against. This was either a test of will, an attempt to break Gordon's will to death, or a mere joke; the G-Man mocking Gordon using his twisted, dark sense of humor.

Either way, Gordon would not be beaten. Determined to defeat the G-Man, he stayed firmly on the ground, and waited for the G-Man to return. He was unable to sleep, but he still felt better then he had in days, weeks, or however long this hell had existed. He still had a chance, and the G-Man had unknowingly given it to him. He'd have the last laugh.

Two rooms away, three Zoc't'vicians scientists viewed the surveillance screen with the subject in it. It was lying on the ground, staring up at the black ceiling. A day ago, they had found the human lying in the halls of the lab, unconscious. Without consulting the All-Knowing Ruler, they had brought it to this chamber for observation. The All-Knowing Ruler would not approve of these actions, but the All-Knowing Ruler would also not approve of their plans on his disposal. All was well, though. He wouldn't know until the time came, and by then it would have been too late for him to escape.

The scientists typed some notes up on the strange behavior of this specimen. It was lying perfectly still, and has been for ten minutes. Maybe they needed to add a few more variables to the chamber, such as electric shock, or heat. The largest of the three aliens turned a knob, and pressed a button. The room's voltage meter began to slowly rise, and the subject began to look uncomfortable. The scientists prepared to record the events which would follow, as the voltage electricity strengthened on the ground which the human was lying on.


	8. All's Well That Ends Well

Well, it's over. I finished it. I know, I know, it took forever. But hey, look at it this way: It's finished!

I've developed my writing style a lot since the beginning of this story, so I might go back and rewrite the first chapters just so that it stays a more fluent style.

Some of you might be interested to know that I've emailed this story to Marc Laidlaw. He said that he liked it, which was very cool for me to hear.

That being said, enjoy the ending to the journey that our friend, Gordon, has endured in just over a week, leading to his ultimate demise.

I hope the wait was worth it.

****

****

**Half-Life: Gordon's Dead**

**Chapter Eight:**** All's Well That Ends Well**

Tuesday – Day Ten

Gordon twitched. Nothing. He shrugged his shoulder. Still nothing. Slowly, cautiously, Gordon raised his head. Nothing shocked him, and nothing poked him. One eye was carefully opened, and when no immediate danger was seen, the other followed. The chamber that Gordon was in was still dark, and still quiet. As he had many times in the last 24 hours, Gordon wondered where the hell he was.

In the past day, Gordon had been stabbed, sliced, shocked, burnt, frozen, spun, stretched, and had basically every other physical limitation violated. In short, he was falling apart mentally, and felt doubly-so physically. But Gordon refused to give in. Still convinced that the G-Man was testing his will, Gordon stood his ground. As he lay back down on the ground, preparing to take more voltage through the body, or whatever this room would throw at him next, Gordon tried to let out a weak smile. As his face hadn't made this muscular movement in a while, this proved to be more difficult a task then Gordon remembered it to be, but this was simply because now it was. Finally, he accomplished this feat, although it was more the expression that might send a child screaming for his mother, or make a grown man feel as if something was terribly wrong with the world, which was fitting, because at the present time and being, there was.

The Zoc't'vician scientists tittered over the monitor. Why was this human still behaving like he was? The scientists had never been able to perform actual experiments on this race, however, they had expected that the will would break sooner then it had. What was motivating this human, this man, this 'Gordon'? Perhaps the All-Knowing was communicating with him. Determined, the scientists hunched over some controls and began to type notes, and watch the data.

Alone. All alone. Utterly, remarkably, positively alone. In an empty space, there is no other feeling stronger than that of the feeling that you are by yourself. This was precisely what the G-Man was feeling at the moment, and this was precisely what the G-Man was trying to escape from. He had lived with loneliness, breathed it, drank it. He had absorbed it through his skin, and made it a part of him. Finally, though, this feeling was no more use to him. The G-Man wanted to escape from it, but, like a bad addiction, he couldn't. How could one escape from one's own parent, house, society? Would running help? In a way, no. Eventually, you would either come across another problem, or live a continuous, pointless, meaningless life constantly running from problems. But that wasn't the only problem. The G-Man was experiencing another problem. He had lost his powers.

It had happened an indeterminable amount of time ago. In a place where time meant nothing, the G-Man himself also meant nothing. He had lost track where he was, and how long he had been there. All that the G-Man knew was that he couldn't leave. At all. Not only that, but his powers to multitask, think quickly, and move between dimensions had ceased. The powers that the G-Man had lived with for decades had completely disappeared, leaving him trapped in a place where nothing could enter or escape. For the first time ever, the feeling of loneliness had taken on a whole new, profound meaning.

This feeling made it hard for the G-Man to concentrate on understanding why, precisely, he had suddenly lost the ability to cross through dimensions, among other powers he had. What could have caused this? How? There were too many thoughts going through the G-Man's head, and he felt himself slipping into human traits of fear, paranoia, and panic. These strange, alien emotions…Overwhelming his senses. Irrational feelings, doubts, and even fears spread through his body. The closest that the G-Man could associate these feelings with were from when he had first found out about the Zoc't'vicians plan for his demise, and yet this feeling had spread to new magnitudes. Drifting. Simply moving, powerless, and utterly alone. The G-Man felt his grasp on sanity weaken as the time passed. How long, he couldn't say. But it slipped past, and the G-Man began to lose touch with reality. He slipped in and out of consciousness, and sometimes couldn't tell one from the other. Slowly the G-Man's mind lapsed into darkness, and reality blurred with his imagination.

"Cruel, unusual punishment." Where was the voice coming from?

"Murder, and genocide." Rick turned around. The voice wasn't there either.

"Are you proud?" Was he proud? What kind of question was that?

"Well, Fredrick? Are you?" Why was this voice familiar? Strong, commanding, and cold, the voice held its own ground in a back alley of Rick's dark past.

"Answer me, Fredrick. Answer your father." Of course! It was Jose, Rick's father. Jose was a very harsh parent, and never gave Rick any sympathy growing up. "I never had a parent to coddle me while growing up, why the hell should he?" was what he always would argue to Rick's mother, Andrea.

Hearing the voice of his father brought back a horrible feeling, a fear that Rick had not experienced since he had left his childhood home for good. The mere thought of Jose brought a shiver down Rick's spine. Swallowing deeply, and trying to clear his mind as best as he could, Rick tried to reply. All he managed to do was shudder, and feel shame as tears moved down his face.

"You've brought embarrassment on your family, Fredrick. You and I both know that. The sooner you admit it, the sooner you can leave."

Finally, Rick managed to find his voice to respond. "Leave? Leave where?"

Jose's disembodied voice drifted to Rick, as he had still not shown himself. "You know where. You were just here only days ago. Remember, Fredrick? Remember the shelves? This isn't the first time you've visited me in my chambers. No, it's been quite the opposite. For having locked me away in the darkest recesses of your memory, you've came here quite often as of late. Each time you've arrived, have you noticed the dreams became more realistic? Each time you've arrived, have you noticed that the dreams lasted longer? But most importantly, each time you've arrived, have you noticed that they became more horrifying?

"Of course not, you've been too engaged in your quest to take over a planet which tormented you as a child, enslaving a society that you could not succeed in, by utilizing a society that you modified to succeed with you. What have you accomplished? You failed to adapt, so you adapted the world around you. You are a weak link, and so your decision was to destroy the rest of the chain. Why, though? Why couldn't you learn to coexist with your fellow humans? Do you even know the answer? Have you even considered the question? I didn't think so.

"Because you were too obsessed with revenge, it never crossed your mind what the consequences might be. You thought that you were invincible, and that you could mold the very fabric of space and time itself to work for you. But yet you created me, all those years ago. When I was locked away, I manifested the form I'm in now. A form that you can't perceive, but you know just as well as I do who I am. By creating me, you have proved once again what I am currently telling you about. You didn't consider the course of events that would follow. But in doing so, you sealed your fate. So I sat, contemplating how to escape, in the dreary corner that was your dark subconscious. In doing so, I learned about you. Every thought that passed through your mind subconsciously, I saw. I knew every one of your plans at the same time, or sometimes before, you did. Every time I learned some new piece of information, my strength grew.

"Soon, I grew strong enough to use some of your abilities. I was able to read minds, and see into the future. I saw, in that interweaving web of time, that you would be overthrown by your own enslaved alien race. Yes, Fredrick, I saw that you would be killed by your precious Zoc't'vicians. Who do you think showed you? Me, of course. I knew that if you were killed that way, everything you wanted would have already came into your possession. Because, my _son_," Jose spat out the word 'son' in a sign of great disgust. "Because I saw, before your fate, you had conquered the Earth, and the aliens still had not received what you promised them. You do remember what they were promised, don't you?"

Rick was silent. He was engaged in deep thought. What had he promised the Zoc't'vicians? Why had he obviously promised them something he couldn't give them? It was too confusing to think. His father continued on.

"I didn't think you would have. But why would you have? You had no intention of giving it to them; you just said what you knew they wanted, so that you would get what you wanted in turn. Sad, isn't it?

"But as I was saying. I saw that before dying, you won. After seeing this, I knew that you couldn't win. I didn't just not want you to, I _wouldn't let you_. So, I brought you into my lair, where I'm Lord, and you are a mere peasant, a slave working under my iron rule. So I showed you the picture. Like I expected, you saw it, and immediately began to contemplate ways to avoid it. I watched with detached interest, and saw that the webs of time were reshaping, and you were no longer tortured by your slaves. That was when I began to act.

"You see, Fredrick, each time you visited me, I gained more strength. Finally, just recently, I had enough energy to take your powers from you. How does it feel to be powerless, Fredrick? How does it feel to be _mortal_?"

The room, if that's what it was, began to become glaring white. Rick tried to shield his eyes, but when that didn't work, he tried shutting them. It was no use, and the intensity is still growing.

"Why are you doing this to me?" As difficult as it was, Rick was able to find his voice again.

"Why? Are you that wrapped up in yourself that you haven't been listening to me this entire time?" Jose's voice was still cold, but was showing signs of anger. Whenever Rick's father was angry before, it was never good. Now, however, it could only get worse.

"Ever since you created me, I've been trying to decide how to escape. Now, I have finally discovered how to. Now, that I have enough power, I can. Now, that you have no powers, I have no chance at failure. Fredrick, you have no possible chance at stopping what's about to happen." In the brightness of the room, Rick screamed.

Gordon jolted up from where he had fallen earlier. How much earlier? At least two hours. He had been electrocuted to the point of near-death, and Gordon had thought that the G-Man was finally finished with him. It seemed that at the last moment though, he stopped. Why? The question burned in Gordon's mind. He was done with the G-Man toying with him, and he decided that this time he'd take action.

Slowly, Gordon tried to climb to his feet. His legs wobbled, and all though he fell over the first time, he was able to get to his feet on the second try. As before, the room was sleek metal, and had smooth, curved edges where the ground met the floor. Looking up, the ceiling was impossible to see, as it faded to black. Frustrated, Gordon tried to find something, anywhere, that might reveal a way to escape.

After searching, and finding nothing, Gordon collapsed from lack of energy. He was amazed that he had managed to survive this long. Gordon's stomach convulsed, as a painful reminder to him that it had been at least a week since he had last eaten, but probably longer. Starvation was a drawn out, painful process, especially when you had a supernatural being keeping you on the edge of life constantly. It seemed that the G-Man was obviously keeping Gordon alive for some reason, which, although not yet apparent, was out of Gordon's control. He shut his eyes, and drifted off, yet again, into another restless, nightmare-filled sleep.

Jose looked around. He was in the very place he had been looking at less than two hours ago, but it seemed different while experiencing it. It seemed strange. No matter. He was free, and that was all that mattered. He would punish his son, and his son had no way of escaping.

Comfortable, Fredrick? Jose inwardly let out a tight grin. He knew what Rick was thinking. That was the whole reason that Jose was going through this routine. It was a mock of what his son had done to this Gordon. Jose felt that it was a pity that he was the only one enjoying the irony.

As usually, Rick didn't respond. Jose smiled darkly, and began to test out his newly-inherited powers. He left this pre-universe, this undeveloped dimension, and reappeared back at the Zoc't'vician base. Almost instantly, every Zoc't'vician knew that he was there, and there was a feeling of urgency throughout the complex. It was overwhelming.

Fool! Do you realize what you've done? The Zoc't'vicians take offense to intruders. They'll kill you! Jose could feel the snarl that Rick was mentally transmitting. Both of them knew, however, that it was pointless for him to have said that. Both of them knew why Jose was doing this.

You're their Great Almighty, aren't you? 

No, I'm the All-Knowing. Jose knew that, he was having more fun mocking his son.

Right. They wouldn't kill their leader. 

How have you done this? You're not real! You're merely a thought that was always foreboding in my past memory! This is impossible. You could not have taken control like this! Jose started to walk down the empty, metal hall that he had appeared in. Carvings lined the walls.

Just think of me as a split personality, although I'm not. There was a large door up ahead. It had five roughly-drawn symbols on it, in black. Obviously, this was the Zoc't'vician's language.

I can take control. You can't keep me hear. You can't! Annoyed, Jose pushed Rick back into Jose's old quarters. Once in there, he wouldn't be able to contact Jose anymore. Silence filled his mind, and almost instantly, Jose's mind cleared. He recognized the language, and knew what it said. He was about to enter the Experimenting Chamber.

The All-Knowing was here! The All-Knowing had entered the complex, and was nearing their station! The Zoc't'vician scientists began to panic as they began closing logs, and shutting down software. After starting up the machine that would read the thoughts transmitted by the human subject, they had realized that they were holding captive the All-Knowing's Gordon. This was not just any human, this was the one that the All-Knowing kept free from becoming a slave of the Zoc't'vicians. Not only had they taken a human test subject without the All-Knowing Ruler's permission, but they had taken the All-Knowing Ruler's own experiment! To make matters worse, the Ruler himself would be entering this very room in less than five minutes!

The three scientists stared in fear as the door began to open. This was it. It was too late for them to shut down any more equipment. To make matters worse, the human subject himself was still in the chamber! As the aliens awaited their imminent death, the automatic door suddenly snapped back shut, signifying that the being by the door had backed away from the sensor. Surprised, the three Zoc't'vicians looked around. After two minutes, they began to exit the room through an emergency exit.

I won't let you do this! This is _my _mission! I won't let you ruin my plans! Rick clutched his head. He fell to the floor, and tried to push Jose further back into his mind.

You've lost, Fredrick. You've failed, and there's no use. Give up. Jose pushed back.

I _won't_! Gordon Freeman must die! I can beat you! I've beaten you before! Wildly, Rick began to slam his fists into his skull. He was losing hope. Then, he realized what the problem was. He had beaten his father as the G-Man. He couldn't win as himself. He had to become the G-Man again!

_I am the G-Man_, Rick told himself. _I am no longer Rick!_ He began to concentrate on his identity, all the government papers, his ID, and his mission to kill Gordon Freeman. Slowly, Jose began to weaken.

What are you doing? You can't do this! This is against all possibility! You've lost your identity! You failed as Rick, and you failed as the G-Man! You have nothing left! Rick struggled to ignore his father, but at the same time he had to ignore Jose entirely, and destroy his self image. He was no longer Rick. He was the G-Man. Rick was dead. There was no going back; the dead can't be revived. Jose was just a man. A mere mortal. The G-Man had defeated Jose before, but now, he would _destroy_ him! With a final gasp of breath, the G-Man's eyes widened, and then closed. He lay still on the floor, and everything went black.

The G-Man looked around, and smirked. He was in a large white room, with thousands of bookshelves in rows. He was in Jose's chamber. Somewhere in here, his old father was hiding; like a coward. Weak and powerless, he had no other option than to hide and hope he wasn't found. Feeling the power running through him, the G-Man slowly began to stalk his prey, like a cheetah hunting a shrew.

He closed his eyes. The G-Man could sense Jose's presence, nearby. He was three rows over. The G-Man opened his eyes, and materialized a gun. It was a perfectly normal pistol, but then again, it was merely for show. This time, Jose would be finished off, and with the G-Man's own two hands. He turned left, and began to close in for the kill.

This wasn't what Jose had expected. Fredrick had been defeated. Jose had won! How had his son managed to beat him? How had Jose managed to miss that major flaw in his plan? He knew that Fredrick (or, rather, the G-Man), was now coming to kill him, and Jose had lost all hope. _This must be how Gordon felt_, Jose thought bitterly.

There he was. There was the G-Man. He was about a hundred feet away. The G-Man began to walk slowly towards Jose. Soon, the G-Man was right on top of him.

"So, Jose, we meet for the last time." The G-Man was looking down at Jose, and spoke with a cold, emotionless voice. Jose didn't even bother replying. He just turned away from the face of the G-Man. Then the G-Man was there too, appearing in front of Jose's face again.

"Don't even bother trying that on me. I'm sure you remember this place? This was your home, and this will be your final resting place. I trust you remember this photograph, depicting my demise?" The G-Man picked up a black and white photo, which Jose remembered vividly creating. It had the Zoc't'vicians killing the G-Man in their torture chair. "Funny how in an instant, it shows your last sight, isn't it?" The G-Man swiped his hand across the picture, and it showed himself killing Jose but, it seemed, cutting off his oxygen supply.

"So that's how it's going to be? You're just going to suffocate me, you bastard? It's a fitting name for you, now that I bring it up. You _are_ a bastard child, after all."

"You always were foolish. You think that's going to even cause me to stutter? I couldn't care less. You're dead to me, and you have been since Fredrick no longer became my identity. All I'm doing now is killing the final, resisting roach in the trash heap. Now please, be silent so that I can finish the job once and for all." The G-Man's eyes narrowed. Almost instantaneously, Jose felt his lungs empty. Opening his mouth, he tried to breath, but no air entered. He could feel the air entering his mouth, but it wouldn't go down.

Jose fell over. His chest was beginning to hurt terribly. It felt as if his lungs were folding in on each other. Jose's vision began to blur, and it finally went black. But he didn't die for another thirty seconds. Finally, Jose lay still for the very last time, and didn't move again.

It was almost depressing that this man had spent his last few weeks living in the back of his mind, but given who it was, the G-Man felt no mercy. To him, it was all a job. One man threatened to bring down everything that the G-Man had worked for, and he had to be taken care of. So he was. With this threat no longer a problem, the G-Man still had other things to take care of. One was Gordon. The G-Man knew that he was in the Zoc't'vician's experimenting chamber, and had known. He had stayed away from it because he didn't want to irritate them, after learning that he was to be overthrown. Now, however, it was evident that plan would never happen as the mastermind behind it was finally dead.

The G-Man decided right there that he would finish of Gordon right now, and he'd do it in the very room that Gordon had been in for the past few days. Gordon's time had come, and his will was decimated. Gordon didn't care whether he lived or died anymore, so he was of no more use. The G-Man had also run out of punishments.

The first thing that he had to do was get out of this dream world. How, though? He had never tried leaving a world that existed in his mind. He had never tried entering one, for that matter. His subconscious, or Jose, had done that. The G-Man tried the usual routine of moving through space, and found that, like expected, he was seeing completely different universes all around him. He was in another dimensions' dimension, and escaping wouldn't be easy. So, now knowing that he couldn't just "walk" out, the G-Man tried leaving the dream by simply traveling to the real world. It was unexplainable how he did it. It was accomplished the same way he'd travel between worlds and dimensions, but it was almost completely different. He had to "skip" over the other worlds in this dimension to get out, and "leap" to another universe. With an uncomfortable, sickening lurch, he woke up.

The G-Man immediately got to his feet, and walked towards the Experimenting Chamber. The door automatically opened, and closed after he walked through it. There was a glass window in the front, where he could see Gordon laying on the floor in the chamber below. Gordon appeared to be asleep, so the G-Man gave him a jolt by using one of the machines spread out around the cramped room. Gordon flinched, and tried staggering to his feet. He fell over, and didn't get up.

Mr. Freeman. Gordon's eyes opened again. The G-Man was finally showing himself. Gordon knew that this meant he was finally going to be finished off, so he looked around weakly. Now, for the first time, Gordon could make out a small glass pod a ways up the chamber's smooth walls. With great effort, and a lot of straining, Gordon managed to sit up. Although unsteady, he could at least see the window better. Up in the pod, Gordon could barely make out a lone figure. The G-Man.

You and I both know why I'm here, Mr. Freeman, so I won't dance around the reason. But before I do what I came here to do, Mr. Freeman, I wanted to ask you a few questions. Gordon began to cough, and fell onto his chest again. He managed to barely get himself up again.

"What…Wh…Wh…" Gordon couldn't finish his sentence, but the G-Man knew what he was asking. He launched right into his question.

You see, Mr. Freeman, I've been wondering something. Do you think your life has been worthwhile? In the most recent years, you've nearly been killed by an invading alien race, and now you're about to be killed by one of your own. So, what have you accomplished in these years? Have you done anything memorable? More so, have you accomplished anything that hasn't been destroyed when the Earth was enslaved? Yes, in case you were wondering, Earth is no longer the planet you remember. It's been completely, how shall I put it, redecorated, to fit the Zoc't'vicians' needs. You are, in essence, the last human being alive.

I don't count, Mr. Freeman. I've seceded from the Human race. I am no longer one of your kind. I believe we've been over this already, but I'm my own species now. I am an evolved form of your pitiful race, and I will succeed where you failed. So, Mr. Freeman, answer the question. Are you proud? Have you accomplished anything that still exists? Did you ever find a purpose in your life? The G-Man stopped talking, and kept staring at Gordon, motionless.

Gordon nodded, and whispered an answer. "My purpose was to kill sons of bitches like you."

The G-Man chucked. Well, Mr. Freeman, it seems you failed at that, doesn't it? Gordon didn't reply. After a few minutes, the G-Man shrugged, and spoke through a voice amplification device in the pod that was similar to a microphone. It allowed Gordon to hear him.

"Mr. Freeman, Gordon, former colleague, you had a good run, but I'm afraid you've simply… ran out of _time_. Goodbye, Gordon. Goodbye." Gordon's eyes opened fully, and his pupils dilated. It felt as if his brain were on fire. Choking, Gordon began to roll on the floor in spasms as he felt his entire nerve system burn. It was the worst pain he had ever experienced, but in a way, it was a relief to know that this was the last pain Gordon would have to experience. Unfortunately, Gordon wasn't able to focus on this. He could actually feel the nerves being destroyed, and parts of his brain shutting down. Gordon knew he'd be dead soon. Parts of his body started going limp as the nerves were lost there. Soon, all he had left was his vision and his brain. Slowly, Gordon watched in horror as his vision faded away, and the pain was left just in his head. Gordon expected to see his entire life flash before his mind, but instead, he saw the G-Man, looming over him. Before he finally died, Gordon saw the G-Man give a smirk, and a wave. Then his mind went blank, and Gordon lay still for the last time.

All was complete. The G-Man knew that Gordon was dead, and he had defeated Jose. Earth was now owned by the Zoc't'vicians, and the human race had been vanquished. What was left? What purpose did the G-Man have left in his life? Deep in thought, he left the room, without looking back at the corpse of his longtime foe. The G-Man walked down the long, empty hallway, until he came to a large window. In the center of the window sat the Earth. Once blue, white, and green, it was now a dull brown, grey, and red. It was a wasteland. At this moment, the G-Man realized he had no goal in his life anymore. He sat down, staring out into the murky blackness of space into the hazy brown rock that was his home, and for the first time in his adult life, wept.

SUBJECT: FREEMAN STATUS: TERMINATED 


End file.
